


XO;

by mvllorylvngdon



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: F/M, God only knows I guess, I mean just go with it okay?, ISH!, Mallory is a tease and she makes devil boners, Song fic, Stripper AU (?), Teasing, Ugh, dark!Mallory, i guess??, kinda plotless, pre smut, striptease, that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvllorylvngdon/pseuds/mvllorylvngdon
Summary: Something has started taking over Mallory, she is coming to know the fall is far too pleasant for her not to enjoy it.





	XO;

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, what the fuck... Okay, so, this is actually a self-paragraph from my Indie RP blog. As you might know, I am really trying to see what direction I can possibly drive Mallory towards; since she's such a blank canvas (it sucks for the fandom because that means a lot of people will bash her, but amazing for FanFiction writers because it's #freerealstate) so I had this idea of having a Burlesque / Stripclub AU, I still haven't decided which. All I know it's I really liked how this came out, hope you guys like it too. 
> 
> #MakeMallieBadass2k19

     If only could somebody spare her from this ache coursing through her, this sudden urge to cry out and crawl out of her skin; to save her from this wicked possession. Brought from the depths of the pure and the divine, it was almost blasphemous to see the girl engaging in such sinful acts. All by herself, all to herself, covered in little aside from that red bloody light.  


    And it was all covered in it, from the unruly waves in her hair down the length of her legs. Once milky, the maroon hue from the strobe lights above her wreathed her in nothing short of enticing. Turned all lines and silhouettes it seemed as though she left her concerns and inhibitions inside the pocket of her petticoat, both way out of her sight.

    The comfort of the dimness, the thrill of the overexposure. Mallory had to admit it was deliciously unbecoming. Perhaps to shred out her halo was not so bad, after all.

    Perhaps to the average man, the casual onlooker, to strip out her clothes to the beat of the music was an act of defilement, to give away something meant to be shared only and only with one person. She begged to differ, because the second her black needle heels grazed the shiny surface of the stage there was nothing, no one in the world but her.

    She understood, anyhow, why some would find it odd coming from her, Mallory usually looked like such a harmless little thing; dressed in flowy delicate fabric, adorned by little jewels and painted in tones of rosy and pastel, her voice was low and sweet, her touch was feather-light, her eyes (oh, those eyes) wide and expectant always on the look for someone to help. Why, yes, it was not like they were expecting to ever see her like this.

    “Damn, who would’ve known Hello Kitty had it in her?” a certain blonde witch would have said. Sadly she wasn’t there to witness.

    Back to the scene, back to reality; hers, at least. First came a flimsy white top, the rounded short sleeves and pearly buttons giving her some airs of innocence, if it wasn’t by the sharp lines defining her eyes in the color of coal, and the dark indescribable shade of her parted lips. The music was loud, and the lyrics obscene, as she began popping the buttons one by one; an expectator in specific nearly scoffed to himself knowing pretty damn well she did it as slowly on purpose. She was teasing, anyway.

__ I’m not the type to call you back tomorrow  
But the way you wrappin ‘round me is a prob  
Ain’t nobody tryna save ya. 

   Mallory began shimming gently out of the fabric, letting it slide off her arms and falling on the floor without uttering a sound. At last she opened her eyes, dark like the inside of a cave under that lighting or lack thereof; they could see her nails, how sharp they were, when she wrapped her hands around the silvery pole at the centre of the stage. Not quite twirling around it yet like a crooked version of a music box ballerina, she chose to support herself on it, instead, lowering herself with every suggestive sway of her narrow yet rounded hips.

    “God, why hadn’t I done this before? This is way too fucking fun” she thought.

    Still with one fist secured around the pole Mallory moved in a wave-like motion, her ribs protruding even under the strobes, hard and stubborn beneath that soft and tearable layer of pale skin. There was something written on ink over them, she had gotten it just recently, and nobody had seen it until that very moment. Of course, there was no way to tell what it said.

    It could have been some heartfelt, meaningful quote. It might as well have been a hex.

_ Pussy so good, I had to save that shit for later  
Took her to the kitchen, fucked her right there on the table. _

    Someone trembled in the crowd and she couldn’t help but laughing, it wasn’t a sweet airy laugh, however. Were they already begging her to go on? Mallory was barely even starting.

   Something had changed in the past few days, Mallory couldn’t explain it, but it had. Came to her in a wave, swept her off like it. For some reason something stirred under her skin when she looked in the mirror, it was warm, it was cold, it was everything in between. Sure made her anxious at first, even afraid. Then she chose to accept it, to embrace it, to seize it.

    God only knew why she would end up on stage in front of strangers getting naked, of all places. Some things were better left unanswered, even if one of those things was the lingering question whether or not it was really her doing all this.

    If it felt so good, why would it matter if it was right or wrong?

    Then came her skirt, that damn plaid wisp of fabric itching to be ripped. It was zipped open from the side, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife; so much some could have sworn they could hear the zipper rip. Down it came, disregarded like her blouse.

    But Mallory didn’t go slow from there, her grip on the pole was dead tight, and with a graceful strut she circled it before hooking her ankles to it, full on dancing now with not a hint of morality holding her back. One, two, three. One, two, three. ‘Round she went around the pole, before dropping to her legs crouching, the black velvety lingerie set she was left in stretching dangerously and barely even covering the small amount of skin she was forbidden from showing. The witch licked her lips catching the heavy thick taste of lust in the air.

     **Lust, and it was all for her.**

    In came the thoughts, pouring out their hungry minds like blood from a fresh cut. Some described in full nasty detail all the things they would do to her, how they could bend her, stretch her, bruise her. Some others were far too in awe to think about anything but beautiful she looked; she obliged, giving  a couple smirks away, aimed at no one, she knew someone would catch them. Funny, not once crossing glances with the one who wanted her the most.

    Oh, if only Cordelia could see her, if only could Zoe. They would have covered their mouths, shut their eyes, turned away. Walk out the door all flustered wondering just what exactly they had seen. Numb inside her head there was the part of her sobbing at the thought, always devoid of any judgement she never thought of anything as dirty or immoral, unless she did it herself. It seemed to her those concepts were somewhat outdated, anyway.

    The most sensitive part of her, the most conscious and the one in control urged her to do more, push further, see where that godforsaken edge could possibly be. How to make it worse.

     After a few seconds she could only think that the one thing worse to sway was to crawl, and so she did.

    Mallory got on all fours, and let herself edge the stage. The cool surface, however degrading, felt heavenly against her skin. So cool, so slick, so welcoming. Flipping to her back she felt more of the surface pressed to her downy skin covered in glitter. Her hips raised, swaying at the air and grinding on nothing, even she had to take a moment to admire herself. How the shimmer covered her sharp hip bones, how it almost looked like scales, turning her into a needy, careless serpent. God, she looked so beautiful.

    Perhaps it was wrong of her to find delight in feeling so exposed and defiled, but it somewhat brought her joy. The pull from something strong drew her in, and she turned her face and pressed her cheek against the floor, her big doe eyes regaining a bit of their innocence at the dreadful gleam of someone else’s gaze, the venomous source of that bit of attention it coursed through her; there was evil in it, as there was approval. Oh, he liked to see her like this, so defiant, yet so very vulnerable.

    The mask of rebellion cracked just a bit and she could almost feel her terrified self seeping through it. But she chained her back and asked her to sit still on the back of her mind, lulling her away to some peaceful slumber while the shadow self had at it.

_ Sweet dreams are made of this  
Who am I to disagree? _

    It happened, so very obedient she sat on her folded legs, and met gazes from afar. Her legs responded to the impulse, no longer could she feel anyone else’s eyes, or the feverish desire to let their hands wander around. No need for hellos in that room, no need to try and get some recognition. The moment his hands laced through hers it just didn’t matter anymore.

   And he looked at her, maddeningly, like there was nothing else in this world but her. Rotten, noble, corrupted, a whole mix of all kinds of shits that contradicted each other but all of which he took gladly and with no hesitation. The small grin that stretched her lips, amidst all that pretending, was quite genuine.

     Mallory’s hands came to rest on the back of the chair, to each side of his shoulders, up and down she came swaying in the air with the force and ease of an angry ocean. To look at it would have made any lesser heart blush, when her mouth parted open and her eyes fluttered shut it might as well be told she was fucking herself with nothing, just for the sick pleasure of feeling him writhing beneath never quite touching her. That was her will, all her power, the second he tried to touch her his hands wouldn’t move; and she would chuckle grimly, cocking her eyebrow at him as to cue a challenge.

    How pretty she looked, rocking and rolling, finally granting him with some relief by flopping onto his lap without thinking much about it, not foreseeing any consequences.

     ** _And boy, would she regret it…_**


End file.
